


Love and Sunflowers

by Three_Oaks



Series: Oaksy's Prompt Game [20]
Category: Mission: Impossible (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, First Meetings, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Light Angst, M/M, benji loves flowers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:27:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23654575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Three_Oaks/pseuds/Three_Oaks
Summary: Benji finally meets his neighbor.Day 20:Neighbors
Relationships: Benji Dunn/Ethan Hunt
Series: Oaksy's Prompt Game [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1676299
Comments: 10
Kudos: 54





	1. Chapter 1

Benji ducked behind his well-kept geraniums, watering can in hand and cheeks as red as his most prized rose. 

His neighbour was sunbathing. Sculpted chest and tight boxer, one trail of hair leading downwards, Ray-Bans on his perfect face. He was the image of beauty, and of several other things Benji would definitely not call back to mind once he wasn't risking arrest for indecency. 

What should he do? Get up, and say hi like a normal human being that was certainly not undergoing a very embarrassing meltdown? Or just crouch until he left, God knows in how much time, just to avoid a potentially mortifying interaction? Well, crouching it was.

It was the only way. Their balconies were barely separated by a low wall and, on Benji's side, a rainforest of flowers, herbs, and vegetables. No way to escape without being seen. More flowers than vegetables, truth be said. Geraniums were always a good bet, but he had a deep love of the roses that were between the peonies and the sunflowers. He'd brought them with him after he'd taken the job as senior software engineer, from his windowsill in London to Washington DC. They'd been his grandmother's, growing in the garden in a small Oxfordshire village with a strange name where he'd spent much of his childhood. He'd been accused of caring more about them than his last boyfriend, an accusation than may not have been entirely untrue. 

The only problem was the pollen. The pollen that threatened to make him sneeze. He bit his tongue, pinched his nose.

"Achoo!"

Shit.

"Hi?"

Benji cursed his destiny, and got up.

"Hadn't seen you there!" handsome neighbour said, smiling.

"Yes! I was, um, pruning my sprouts." 

Did sprouts even need pruning? This was why he didn't speak to people.

"We haven't met before, have we?"

They hadn't, even though Benji had moved into the next flat nearly two years ago. He'd caught a few glimpses from time to time, but from what he could hear through the thin walls, he wasn't home much. He didn't even know his full name. E. Hunt, Appartment 57. Erik? Evan? Eugene?

"I'm Ethan."

There it was.

"Benjamin. But call me Benji, everyone does."

"Well, nice to meet you, Benji. Gorgeous, by the way."

"I’m sorry?" he choked.

"The flowers."

"Yes! Of course. Would you like some?"

"Oh, you're too kind. I can't..."

"You're away too much to keep any plants, right? I don't know, I always found that a flat was empty without. I can give you one pot, and you can give it back before you leave. What are your favourites?" 

Ethan hesitated. God, had he been too forward? Was it weird to offer your neighbour flowers? 

"Sunflowers."

Benji breathed, and reached for the flowerpot. 

"There! Careful, it's a bit heavy."

"Thank you very much, Benji," Ethan smiled.

"Um... See you, then!" he said, going back inside before he could embarrass himself any further.

A week later, he found the sunflowers in front of the door, with a sheet of paper.

It was a drawing. Benji, on his small balcony, surrounded by flowers. He was peaceful, focused. Handsomer than he was. Not how he saw himself, but who was he to criticize art? He held it to his heart, smiling like a idiot.

Maybe he hadn't done as bad an impression as he'd thought.

***

Benji was debugging some code that should have been finished two weeks ago, late enough that he could feel a headache building behind his eyeballs, but not late enough that he'd felt compelled to turn down the Wagner blasting through his flat. It was the only thing keeping him awake, and handsome neighbour Ethan Hunt hadn't given sign of life in two months.

A knock managed to reach through the clamor of the orchestra.

He saved his file, and opened the door. It was Ethan.

"Hi. I'm sorry to bother you, but I heard the music and I figured you'd be awake."

Benji stared at him. He had a large cut across the forehead, bruises all over his face and an arm in a sling. He was holding his weight on only one of his leg, and resting against the doorframe as if it hurt even to stand. 

"Are you alright? What happened?" Benji asked anxiously.

"Nothing. Small car accident."

A car accident that had left him with handprints around his neck, Benji noted.

"Can I do anything for you? I can turn the music down, if you..."

"Could I have the flowers again?"

Benji opened his mouth, before closing it.

"Of course. Do you want me to carry them for you?"

"That would be great," Ethan said with relief.

Benji went to the balcony to retrieve the flowerpot, and followed Ethan to his flat, slowly crossing the few meters separating their doors. He was limping. 

Saying that the flat was bare was a bit of an understatement. The living room had for only furniture a table, two chairs and a shelf, holding a few heavy-looking books. No sofa, no decoration, no television. Nothing personal at all.

Ethan noticed him staring.

"I don't spend much time here," he said, looking slightly embarrassed.

"Well, at least you must watch less crap on TV than I do," Benji joked. "Where do you want the sunflowers?"

"On the table, please. Will they get enough light there?"

"It shouldn't be a problem. How long do you want to keep them this time?"

"I'll be there for a month and a half, but if it's too long I perfectly understand that..."

"Not at all! As long as you want."

He hesitated.

"Thank you for the drawing, by the way. It was beautiful."

"I wish I could do another one, but my arm is broken," Ethan said regretfully.

"No worries. If you need help with anything, don't hesitate to knock."

"I will, then," he smiled. 

"Good night, Ethan. See you soon."

This time, he had the feeling it may be true. And he couldn’t wait.


	2. Chapter 2

The sunflowers were now proudly sitting on his balcony, in all their glory. Their blooms painted a ray of yellow next to Benji's beloved roses, bright in the early September sun.

"Ethan, do you want another beer?" Benji called from the kitchen.

"Yes, thank you!"

Benji grabbed two bottles from the fridge, and headed back to the balcony. They had repatriated Ethan's deck chair and the sunflowers about a month after he'd come back. No point leaving them in his flat, given he'd been spending so much of his time at Benji's. Well, Benji's apartment was less close to an ascetic monk's retreat, or a prison cell. And cooking was hard with just one good arm, or at least that's what Ethan had said when he'd knocked at his door the day after his return, a jar of tomato sauce in hand. It would have been cruel not to invite him in for supper, wouldn't it have been? Not that he hadn't noticed Ethan's beautiful little smile when his ploy had worked. He liked that smile.

Benji sat down and handed Ethan his beer. For a while, they drank in silence as the sun slowly went down, turning the golden flecks of light on the white wall pink, then blue. Insects were buzzing about his plants, going from flower to flower in an incessant dance. Soon, they would wilt and die, leaving only brown leaves and a memory of their perfume. But not now. 

"Is there any raison why you asked me for the sunflowers?" Benji asked.

"My mother grew them. She didn't have many flowers, mostly vegetables and herbs. But she let sunflowers grow at the edge of her garden, just before the field started." He looked at them, and smiled. It was a peaceful smile, one that had maybe just a smidge of nostalgia. Benji had been collecting those smiles, marking them so he would never forget. "I guess they remind me of how easy life was, how quiet it was. Not boring, just... happy."

"Is your life not happy, now?" Benji said, his voice so low it was nearly a whisper.

Ethan didn't answer. He took a gulp of his beer, laid back in his chair and turned away, looking towards the last glow of the sunset.

"It's not peaceful." 

Benji reached out, and put one hand on Ethan's shoulder, just above the collarbone. Barely an inch away from where his t-shirt revealed his skin. Benji wanted to trace it with his finger. Not yet. It was a friendly touch, there was nothing suggestive about it, not if Ethan wasn't looking for it. But if he was, it was an invitation.

Ethan got up, too fast, tangling his feet in the feet of the deck chair, before looking into Benji's eyes. No smile. 

"I'm leaving tomorrow." 

It wasn't harsh, because Ethan never said anything harshly. But it was as unavoidable as gravity, and there was nothing that Benji could do, or say, to make it any less true.

"Do you want to stay any longer?"

Just one last evening. One last night.

"I should get some rest. Thank you for everything, Benji."

Ethan left. Benji sat on the balcony until he was shivering, too cold to bear it anymore. The weather had started cooling already, he noted distractedly. When he finally went to bed, he noticed the first rose petals, falling onto the ground.

***

Two month later, and Benji's flower garden was well dead, finished by the first frosts of the year and the night that ate more of the day with every passing week. Maybe not dead, not everything. The roses would bloom again next year, as would the irises and the hydrangeas. The rest, he would have to pull out. He hadn't had the courage yet.

He was used to living alone. He liked living alone. He had his job, his cooking and his flowers. He saw friends whenever he felt like it, stayed home when he didn't, brought strangers back from the pub for a night and politely refused any second meetings. If anyone had asked him if he was lonely, he'd have said he wasn't. He just didn't have an urge for more. But maybe if he had, it wouldn't have been as hard. Maybe he'd be used to waking with the dream of a laugh in his ears, to smiling at no one because he could remember that one smile, that one time, to have to keep reminding himself that there was no point in thinking of all the things he'd tell Ethan, because Ethan wasn't there. Maybe he'd be hurting less, then.

A knock on the door. Benji's heart shot up, as it had at every knock for two months. He opened the door, not daring to hope.

"Hello, Benji," Ethan said. 

He was unhurt, his skin more tan than it had been when he'd left, his hair now falling onto his forehead. Benji wanted to push them behind his ear. He looked tired.

"Ethan," Benji said. Too strangled, too heavy. Ethan didn't seem to mind. "Come on in. How are you? When did you come back?"

"Just now. I'm good, thank you."

"Do you want something to..." Benji stopped. They hadn't managed to get out of the entryway, Ethan strangely close to him in a way that made him forget anything that had ever hurt. Suddenly, he couldn't remember what he'd wanted to ask, and he wasn't sure he cared. 

He took Ethan's head into his hand, pushed him back against the wall, and kissed him. For an instant, just an instant, Benji could lose himself in the feeling of soft lips against his own, of Ethan's heart beating hard through the soft fabric of his shirt, of the rougher denim of his jeans and the perfect way their hips fit together

But he stood back, waiting for Ethan to react, to say something. He didn't. Benji felt dread, rising up to swallow his heart.

"God, Ethan, I'm so sorry. I should never have..."

Ethan grabbed him and pulled him back, hands so tight and desperate it hurt just a little, but so perfectly that Benji couldn't breathe. They kissed as if they were drowning, as if they would die if they didn't. Benji didn't know how he'd lived for so long without Ethan in his arms.

"Stay, please," he whispered into Ethan's ear, raw and rough and imploring.

"Yes," Ethan whispered back, his breath hot against Benji's skin. Benji took his hand, and led him away.

***

Benji woke up to the sounds of keys dropping onto the floor and clothes ruffling as they were put on too fast. He was lying face down on his bed, still naked, and he couldn't understand what was happening. Why would Ethan want to leave? Last night had been as close to perfect as any night could be. At least to him.

"Leaving already?" He said, voice still muffled by sleep.

"Benji, I'm so sorry. I should never have done that. I don't know what came over me."

"You wanted me, and I wanted you, and we had fun. We're both adults. What's the problem?" A breath later, a bit more scared. "It doesn't have to mean anything if you don't want it to."

"You don't understand. I can't do this." He sat back on the bed, shirt undone, looking at his knees because he couldn't face Benji. 

"Not into men after all?" Benji said, on the tone of a joke that wasn't really one, ignoring the sting in his chest.

"No. I... That's not the problem."

Very carefully, Benji moved next to him, until they were sitting side to side.

"Then tell me," he said, softly. 

"I wanted you. I want you. I want so much with you. I don't want to get up tomorrow, and pretend that it didn't happen. I want it to mean something. But it can't." He looked at Benji. "There are things that I do, people that meet, that would hurt you to get at me. And I can never let that happen. Not again."

"I know that what you do isn't exactly office work. I saw how you looked when you came back last time. Car accident, really? But you don't have to tell me. I'm not going to ask. What do you want to do, Ethan? Do you want to keep your life as empty as your flat?"

"I don't have a choice. You don't know me, Benji. You shouldn't want to be around me."

"I know you. I don't know all of you, but is that even possible? I know that you laugh at my jokes, even when they're terrible, that you give Mrs. Feely downstairs money when her husband's check is late, but that you don't want it to know it's you. I know which kind of books you can read for six hours without putting your nose up, and which shows will make you roll your eyes. I know the way your eyes look when you tell me about the farm, and that smile you do when you think I can't see you. I know how you react when I bite you there, just where your neck meets your chest. I know that your favourite flowers are sunflowers." Ethan laughed at that, just a little. Benji put a arm around him, and pulled him close, until his chin was resting on Ethan's head. Ethan put his hand on his, and laid back against him. "I know you're a good man. I know you would never do anything to hurt me."

"I can't protect you."

"What if we keep it quiet? We just meet here, and then you go and do your things, and I wait."

"And if it's not enough? If I come back once, and you're gone, or dead, or worse?"

"Then it won't be your fault."

"How could it not be my fault?"

"It won't be." Benji hugged him closer. "I want this, Ethan. I won't force you if you don't. But please, don't hurt yourself like that about things that haven't happened. That may never happen. And I'm remarkably hard to kill, you know."

Ethan chuckled. 

"Maybe... maybe if we keep it quiet. Maybe it will be ok, for a while. But then what?"

"Then we'll see. I trust you."

"It's not just that. I might also not come back, or come back the same. I won't be able to tell you what I do, or when I'll return. I might be gone for months at a time."

"I always thought I'd make a good sailor's wife. I want this, Ethan." 

"Alright." Ethan sat up, and took Benji's chin in his fingers. "I want this, too," he said, and kissed him again. As perfect as the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try to write an epilogue tomorrow!


	3. Chapter 3

Benji turned off the alarm connected to his window, and went on the balcony. It was still cold, too cold to stay there any longer that he had to, to sit there and enjoy the outside air. Not that there was any point to it. Not with all his flowerpots empty after the long winter, except his roses that just started to grows their first leaves. Not without Ethan. 

Two full year. Two years of secret meetings and waits that felt like they would never end, of short moments of peace spent in each other's arms, of constant terror at the thought that Ethan might not come back, not this time, and of the deepest relief when he did. It had been the worst time of Benji's life, and the best.

He ran his hand through the soil, dirt catching under his nails. It was the time of the year he should be planting seeds, waiting anxiously for them to sprout, watching every bit of green emerging from the dark earth. But there was nothing growing, nothing for him to water with love and take care of, for the first time since he'd had a flat of his own. If he waited much longer, it would be too late for this year.

He sighed, and went back inside, turning the alarm on again. Another new thing in his life that had become the new normal, like the gun in his bedside table and the gnawing fear whispering in his ear that Ethan was hurt, or worse, and that he'd never know about it.

And more than everything, he missed Ethan. He missed all of his smiles, the way he felt in his arms, how fast his heart beat every time they kissed. The long mornings in bed, when they kept saying they should get up, but couldn't let go of each other, the days spent on his sofa, talking about everything and nothing.

He had no regrets.

Choosing Ethan was the one thing that he was certain of in his life, that made everything better than it was before, no matter how different everything was. The only thing that he hated, that he knew he’d never forgive himself for if anything happened, was how little time they had. 

He didn’t care that they didn’t go out to trendy new restaurants, that they didn’t organize dinner parties and brunches and whatever it was that normal people did.

He didn’t want a normal life. He wanted a life with Ethan.

Benji looked at his balcony again. Maybe he wouldn't plant anything, this year. Maybe he'd give his roses to Mrs. Feely, put his affairs into order. Maybe he'd follow Ethan, next time he left. 

He knew he'd make a good agent.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back! 
> 
> Sorry for the late post, work has been a bit tense.
> 
> Thank you for reading :)


End file.
